


Hush Boy, Oh Hush Girl

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Becoming a Pack [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each breaking bone was like a hit of something to her system. It was punishment for what she'd done, penance, and as each injury healed, it felt like she was burning off more and more of the monster and leaving her true self behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush Boy, Oh Hush Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Title actually not taken from a Say Anything song. This time it's taken from Little Game by Benny. Just gonna go out and say it right now: The sex in this is super unhealthy. I am not attempting to romanticize this kind of behavior but I saw it as a necessary place to go with these two before I can start helping them. So sorry in advance.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Erica pulled Isaac's jacket tighter around her shoulders. She never seemed to be able to shake the cold anymore, even as the temperatures continued to warm. The stale air of the abandoned subway felt harsh in her lungs, so she took deeper breaths, clinging to the weird sense of pain it brought her. On some level, she knew she should be worried. Her lungs, her throat, it was all sensitive, more than ever before. She was starting to think her past abuse of the wolfsbane powder had started to affect her, more than she thought it would anyways.

But she didn't think too hard about that.

She didn't dare.

She heard Stiles before she smelled him, his steps loud on the metal steps. He hit the light switch at the base of the stairs and a few of the lights flickered on.     He looked better; better than she knew he felt. He'd brought his backpack with him, and she couldn't help the way her heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. She knew what it contained after all.

"I just wanna go on the record saying that I still feel weird about this," Stiles said, digging around through the bag.

"Noted," Erica said.

She straightened and tossed Isaac's jacket on the ground as Stiles pulled out his segmented staff, the clanging of the connecting chains triggering an almost Pavlovian response. Her nails lengthened into claws, her fangs poked at her lower lip, and the rush of added strength flooded through her veins. She didn't like it, not like she used to. It wasn't power to her, but loss of control and that was quite possibly the worst thing about it.           

Stiles twisted the segments together until the staff was a long, heavy hunk of wood. His expression seemed to lack any hint of emotion at first glance. She knew better of course. She'd seen the desperation in his eyes before, the desperation to _live_ when she had him pinned to the ground with her teeth inches, less than, from his jugular. She knew what was behind that facade and she wanted desperately to claw it aside and expose the vulnerable insides. She wanted to show Stiles that the ugly monster in his chest was the same as hers.

The staff whistled through the air and she snapped a hand up to stop it, pivoting on her heel and snapping a kick out to his ribs. Stiles danced out of reach and twisted his wrist. The segments of the staff snapped and it flowed out between her fingers even as she tried to grasp it, trying to keep it close. Stiles spun and she had a moment to appreciate how his speed was improving before one of the ends of the staff slammed into her cheek.

She stumbled, crying out and jaw locking as something snapped. The pain rushed through her, making her stumble, but fuck everything if it didn't make her want to fight harder. Erica dropped to her knees to avoid Stiles' roundhouse kick. She had just enough time to click her jaw back into place before a steel-toed boot drove into her ribs and sent her sprawling up against the subway car. The metal groaned and then screeched as she sunk her claws in to get to her feet. She whirled and ducked under the swinging blow of the reconnected staff. It was easy to duck under Stiles' guard then, and she watched the fear and then anger register in his eyes before shoving her foot against his sternum and forcing him back.

Despite Stiles' initial protests when they first started their fucked up method of coping, she didn't put her all into fighting him off. She couldn't because if she did, it was like going back to that night. The night blood had spilled over her hand and wrist, a sopping death sentence she'd created even if she didn't deliver the final blow. She couldn't lose control that way, not again, not again, not with someone who didn't deserve it.

The dance between them, the painful, _beautiful_ dance, went both ways. She got to practice her control alongside the flashes of pain whenever he landed a blow. Each breaking bone was like a hit of _something_ to her system. It was punishment for what she'd done, penance, and as each injury healed, it felt like she was burning off more and more of the monster and leaving her true self behind.

Of course, there was a chance she was being entirely delusional. She tried not to think too hard about that though.

And Stiles? He never explicitly said _what_ he got out of it, but she knew. She watched as his eyes went from blank nothingness to fear, and rage, and hate, hate she knew he directed at himself, hate she wished he didn't feel even though she understood it. She could tell that the fights were a way to force himself to feel again. It was hard to think that was wrong, even if the emotions he was feeling were bad. To her, if she made him feel anything at all, she would count it as a victory.

Her thoughts distracted her and he managed to snap his staff against her hip. Her knee almost gave out but then she lunged, hands snapping out to wrap around his neck. There was a flash of surprise in Stiles' eyes and she loosened her grip enough for him to breath before shoving their lips together. Stiles' staff clattered to the ground beside them and then he shoved his hands into her hair, crushing her closer to him as he dominated the kiss.

She made him work for it though. Yeah, sex was better than fighting, but she knew it wasn't going to be enough unless she made him work for it. Of course, they had only attempted this once before and that had ended up going nowhere. This time, she was determined. She wanted him to stop hurting, she wanted him to feel something and she wanted him to feel her, feel how he was capable of something good, not just...whatever it was they were doing.

Erica gasped as Stiles hands fell down to her hips in a grip that would be bruising if she'd been human. She hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist because she knew he could take her weight and because she wanted to remind herself of the strength his once scrawny body now contained. He buried his face in her neck as she arched her back and she writhed against him when he bit down hard where her neck met her collarbone.

"C'mon, Stiles, I know you can do more than that," she whispered, arms curling around his shoulders, claws raking through his shirt to get at the skin underneath.

The sound he made was almost feral and her mind went blank at the intensity of it. Then he threw her on the ground, all at once, and she had a moment to register the sweet rush of pain at the impact before he was stretched out over her, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. She bit at his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood and he groaned, hands sliding down her sides to shove under her black tank top. She stretched her arms up to help him tear it off of her and then she shoved him up so she could finish shredding his shirt for him, lapping up a bit of the blood that was dripping down his chin.

The taste of iron against her tongue, it scared some deep core within her because she was so used to it as a harbinger of her seizures, but this, this was anything but. She let Stiles push her back down, let him exert the control he needed. His expression was dark with lust, but she could still see a hint of something else behind that. A need to worship her, make her feel good and-

"Yes, Stiles, yes," she said, her words coming out in harsh pants.

She grabbed his hand by the wrist and brought it to her chest, making him cup her breast. He squeezed, an edge too rough, but she didn't mind because his lips were on hers a moment later. She arched up into the kiss long enough to undo the clasp of her bra before lying back down on the cool, rough pavement. He pushed the fabric up, slowly, and his eyes lost some of the frantic edge as he looked her over.

"I can make it good for you," she whispered, barely audible.

His eyes flicked back up. "What if I don't want it to be good?"

"Just because it's good doesn't mean I can't make it hurt," she said.

He nodded and then got to his feet in one fluid motion and damn she was never going to get used to watching him move so easily. She stared up at him and licked her lips as he began to undo the buckle of his belt, absentmindedly undoing the button of her own jeans and raising her ass of the ground long enough to pull them off. She kept her panties on though and crooked an eyebrow in challenge when his gaze met hers once more.

Stiles kicked his jeans off to the side where his and Erica's shoes were piled. Then went his boxers and Erica held up a hand, making him stay where he was as she drank in the sight of him. There was so much muscle contained in what had once been a lanky form. It disturbed her and turned her on all at the same time, because she loved the muscle, loved how he could make her feel like she was weak the way Boyd could even if he didn't have the werewolf strength to back it up, and yet the reason he had built it up...

She crooked her finger to draw him in and he slid down to his knees and pushed her legs apart. He grabbed her legs and hoisted them over his shoulders before bending down and sliding his lips over her hips. His gaze was intense as he stared up at her and she sucked in a deep breath moments before he bit down hard, just below her belly button. Her legs twined together along the line of his spine and then he was tugging her panties down.

They shifted, quick, jerky movements as he freed one leg and managed to get the scrap of cloth partially down her leg and then his lips were sliding over her clit. It was clumsy, which, okay she expected because she knew he only really messed around with her and Scott and Danny and this was the furthest they'd gone but hell if he wasn't a quick learner.

Erica bracketed him in with her legs, one hand twisting down in his hair as her head smacked back against the pavement. He was quick to add a finger to the mix, exploratory and tentative even as he slid his tongue over her clit, rapid as she tugged harder at his hair. She instructed him in a soft voice, interrupted only by the moans when he got it perfectly right and soon she was limp against the ground, legs falling open helplessly as he drove her orgasm out of her. At that point he'd gotten three fingers in her, stretching her open, and she shivered as he kept up the motions through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

He leaned up over her and she couldn't help the slight thrill that ran through her when she saw her own mess slicked over his lips and chin. She reached up and tugged him down for a kiss, licking her way into his mouth and arching up into him, one foot bracing itself down on the ground as she arched up into him. He trembled and she pulled away from the kiss, a question in her eyes as she stared up at him.

"What is it?"

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice hushed. His pupils were blown wide and there was a hesitancy in the desire she saw there.

"Yeah," Erica said. "C'mon, I want you...please..."

Stiles buried his face in her neck as he slid into her. She closed her eyes, mouth opening around a harsh gasp. He held still once he was buried inside and she took a moment to just _feel_ it, his dick stretching her open, the shudder of his breath against her neck, the pebbles digging into her back, the feel of his shoulders under her hands. The feel of the power, the tension, lurking in his carefully held body.

She took a deep breath and let her hands slide across his skin and then she tensed, claws lengthening out of her nails. He was so scared, she could feel it, so scared of hurting her and she knew just what to do to shatter the last shreds of restraint. Erica sunk her claws in, just barely breaking the skin, and raked them down his shoulder blades. 

Stiles cried out, the sound caught between pleasure and pain, and then, finally, he moved. His motions were frantic and he drove her hard into the pavement. She slid her hands back up into his hair, claws safely tucked away, and let him drive her out of her fucking mind. His rhythm was punishing and her legs trembled, every nerve already sensitive from her previous orgasm. She cried out as he shifted a hand down between them, thumb pressing hard against her clit, and it was too much, too fucking much but barely enough all at once and she felt like the monster in her chest was moments from breaking free.

Her orgasm crested and didn't stop. She could feel Stiles spilling inside her, but it was distant in comparison to the feelings pinging around in her brain, overloading her senses and-

"Stiles, Stiles, pull out, fuck, please, please-"

Stiles reeled away from her and she went limp against the pavement, vision blurry as she stared up at the flickering lights. He collapsed beside her on his back and after she regained some semblance of sanity, she rolled onto her side and threw an arm haphazardly over his heaving chest. For a long time, the only sound was their harsh breathing, and slowly, she came back into her body. She noticed the cold of the pavement first, then the shivering of Stiles' body beside hers, then the pain of pebbles in her back and then she pushed herself upright.

Stiles sat up, grimacing as he swiped at his shoulders. Feeling like she was about to start sobbing, Erica shifted behind him and wiped down his back with the discarded scraps of his shirt. Stiles drew his knees up and slumped forward, head braced on his forearms.

"God, I'm sorry," he said, voice shaky.

"Me too," Erica said. She shifted, every movement like she was pushing through molasses. She curled up on herself, back to his as her eyes flicked over every inch of the abandoned subway station. There was a dent in the subway car she'd been thrown into, chipped tile where her claws had cut in, dirt and rainwater spread across the ground.

"We can't keep doing this," Stiles said.

Erica covered her mouth to muffle a sob.


End file.
